by Karen Klyne
Faz shrugged.
“Thing is, I don’t know anything about Reece. Only what she tells me. For all I know she could have driven the other Gemma around the bend. She could even be abusive.”
Faz rolled her eyes. “But that does not seem likely, does it? If you have any doubts, take the money. Start over.”
Alex played with the plastic knife. “What about the children?”
Faz gave a little laugh. “They are not your children.”
“Hypothetically…what happens if they are? What if I did fall and bang my head? What if I really am Gemma?”
Faz leaned back and put her hands behind her head. “It is all ifs and buts and maybes. Follow your instincts. Personally, I would make a decision sooner rather than later, and get the hell out of this place. At least that could be your base before you move on.”
Alex closed her eyes and nodded. “Thanks.” It was a difficult choice to make, but she thought she was coming close to a decision. Her dad used to say: When in doubt, don’t. But tomorrow you’ll have to live with your regrets.
Chapter Thirteen
This life was magic. Gemma knew she still had obstacles to overcome, but all in all, she couldn’t really fault it. Now, with time and distance, she’d been able to think, and she hadn’t had a terrible life before. She’d never wanted for anything. Reece was a generous woman and if she wished, she could spend as much as she wanted. But Reece would check all the bank and credit card statements and question her about random items, like the three pairs of trainers she’d bought. Okay, so they were expensive. But they had the money. Then there were the bills she ran up in Keldermans. She didn’t like drinking cheap wine. Surely Reece could see that? And all the other stuff too. The problem was, it wasn’t her money. It was Reece’s, and when it came down to it, she’d been spending to try to feel better, to staunch the hole inside that let the tar of negativity smother her. It hadn’t worked, but she’d never cared about the money. In all likelihood, neither had Reece.
Now she had her own means. Well, not exactly hers. She hadn’t worked for it but acquired it by ill-gotten means. It wasn’t intentional, though. As far as she’d known, she could have been exchanging places with a pauper. However, she now had rent coming in monthly from quite a few houses, and she had shed loads of savings. She had a house being renovated, and she found that she actually liked the mechanics of working, of having to make decisions, and tell workers what to do. She liked having a purpose to her day that made her think and challenged her. What more could she ask for? Funny thing was, apart from splashing out on taxis, she didn’t have any desire to run through her money now. Spending for the sake of spending wasn’t necessary. There was no hole to fill. She hoped this feeling would last, and there was no reason why it shouldn’t. For once in her life, she felt secure.
She heard the stairlift, and then her mum came rolling through to the kitchen in her wheelchair. Jasper jumped up from his bed and greeted her mum with a wagging tail. He licked her hand, and she petted him and ruffled the fur on his head. He hardly came near Gemma, apart from when she took him for a walk on the beach. She was sure he’d prefer to go alone if he could. He knew. Dogs sensed those things, and they weren’t easily fooled like humans. She wondered if he missed his old owner and felt like he’d been given away to a new home. Poor thing. She needed to try harder with him.
“Hi, Alex. What’s for dinner? I’m starving.”
“Bacon, liver, sausage, and egg. Sorry it’s nothing more exciting.”
Her mum smiled widely. “I haven’t had that for years. It was one of your dad’s favourites, but I didn’t know it was yours.”
“I like it occasionally. But I do remember it was Dad’s favourite.” She didn’t, but she was sure it would make her mum happy. She hadn’t really thought of making anyone happy before. That was a lie. She had tried with Reece and the children, and she’d worked to give them the things they liked, but they were so different from her. They liked everything different. Music, television, even books. Different food too. They were always so health conscious. Salads, vegetables, fish, chicken, pulses, pasta, and red meat only once a week. The list was endless. Whereas she loved a good fry-up too. It reminded her of her childhood.
Her mum laid the table as usual, and Gemma prepared their meal. Emmerdale was playing in the background. She couldn’t quite follow the story, but her mum did her best to keep her up to speed. Eventually, she served dinner and they tucked in. “I didn’t get back to see Laurel. What did she say?”
“She’s really pleased with me. Apparently, I’ve healed very well.”
“That’s great news.”
Her mum looked down at her plate. “Yes.”
Gemma put her knife and fork down and laid her hand on her arm. “What’s the matter?”
Her mum looked up and smiled. “She says I’m well enough to go home.”
“Home?”
Her mum laughed. “Yes. Remember, I have that nice little bungalow across town.”
Gemma shrugged. “I’d almost forgotten.” She paused. “Do you want to go back to your bungalow?”
“It’s very nice, and very well equipped. I mean, I can’t stay here forever, can I?”
“Would you like to?” She’d had this in mind from the moment she realised she’d got on so well with this mother. She didn’t cramp her style. There was no style to cramp, and she enjoyed her company. If she stayed, they could have good times together. They could go for drives in the countryside, weekend breaks, and go to the cinema. She seemed to love all the movies. After all, she wasn’t her mother. She was more like a sister or an older friend she liked having around a lot. It was interesting, though, how quickly she’d come to think of Helen as her mum, and she felt closer to her than she had her own mother. It was yet another benefit to the life swap.
“Are you serious, Alex?”
“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t.”
Her mum grinned. “Then before you take it back, I’m going to say yes. I’d love to stay.”
“That’s settled then.”
Her mum clasped her hands to her chest. “In that case, I’ll put the bungalow on the market. We can use the money for treats. You know, like holidays and things…if you don’t mind going away with your poorly old mum.”
“Don’t be daft. You’re like a spring chicken. And yes, I’d love us to go away. We can make up for lost time.” Somebody’s lost time. Gemma didn’t want another relationship in the foreseeable future, and this was a good way to have someone she enjoyed being around in this life.
She bit her lip and didn’t look up when she said, “Can I have a TV in my room?”
“Absolutely. Anything you want.”
“Bloody hell. You’ve changed so much. It’s like you’re a different person.” Her mum covered her mouth with her hand. “Sorry. I’m just so overjoyed.”
Gemma sighed. It sounded like the previous owner of this life had been so rigid she hadn’t made room for anyone else. “That makes two of us.” And she meant it.
Her mum rolled her wheelchair back. “Come here, and let me give you a great big hug.”
Her mum pulled out a tissue and blotted the tears that were rolling down her cheeks. She waved her hand. “Now get away with you.”
Gemma cleared the debris and made a pot of tea. She hadn’t become tee total. She loved her boozy nights with Laurel, and she often had a gin and tonic or a glass of wine. It was just that she no longer depended on it. Neither did she take any other drugs, like the anti-depressants or the sleeping tablets. Nothing controlled her life but her.
She poured a mug of tea and pushed it over to her mum, who took two heaped teaspoons of sugar, then added some milk.
“So, when is Mark due back from Australia?”
Mark? Who the hell was he? Her brother, her friend, her boyfriend, her business associate? She hadn’t got a clue. First there was Chloe, and now there was Mark. God, this other woman had quite an appetite. Maybe she was bisexual like her? Thinking
quickly, she recalled some random emails from someone called Mark. He’d sent photos. She hadn’t bothered looking at them or answering the messages. She didn’t know who he was. “Mark?”
“Don’t be facetious, Alex. Poor man. He’s always been crazy about you, and he still is. You can tell by the way he looks at you.”
Another friend? She didn’t know anything about him. Maybe Alex hadn’t told her mum about her girlfriend, Chloe. Back to the fishing trips. “It’s not easy––”
“I never said it was. But he’s always been there for you, and he’s a damned good solicitor as well as a friend. He’s always looked after you and your dad in the past.”
That was good to know. “I’ll make a point of checking when he’s back then.”
“Good.”
Her mum yawned. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for bed.”
Gemma smiled. “You go ahead.” She bent down and kissed her mum on the forehead.
Her mum patted her arm. “Don’t forget to let Jasper out before coming up.”
“I’m on it, Mum.”
Her mum went off to bed, and she poured herself a small glass of cognac for a nightcap. She sat on the sofa and Jasper sat in his bed, staring at her. She was glad he couldn’t talk. She sipped her drink and stared back at him. “I’m sorry I’m not her. But I’ll try harder, if you’ll let me.” He turned his head the other way. She finished her drink, let him out, and then went up to bed. Apart from the dog, everything was fine.
***
Laurel rang her out of the blue. She wasn’t due to meet her for another few weeks, but she sounded desperate. Her mother-in-law had come to stay, and she was driving her crazy. At least Gemma didn’t have to put up with that anymore. One mother-in-law had been enough. Just the thought of Reece’s mother made her blood curdle. Interfering old bat. She irritated her by refusing to call her Mum. Why should she? She wasn’t her mum. She called her by her given name, Val, and choked on the name every time she said it. She’d racked her brain to think of a nasty word that rhymed with Val. She could only come up with pal, and she was a million miles from that. Why couldn’t she have been called Mitch? Then she’d have had witch and bitch, both of which applied. Oh well, there was no more Val. She certainly wasn’t homesick for her or for anyone else. That part disturbed her. It made her feel callous. She wasn’t heartless, it was just that her heart hadn’t been in it. It seemed stupid, because all this looking back was futile. She massaged her shoulders one at a time and stretched her neck from side to side. She dove into work, double checking Alex’s notes and applying them to the current renovation.
When she got to the wine bar that evening, there was no sign of Laurel. She spotted one remaining table, but she hated those tall tables with high swivel chairs. There was nowhere to put a jacket, but they did have a fancy hook underneath the table to hang a bag, as she’d found out last time when she’d nearly kneecapped herself.
She folded her jacket up and placed it on one of the stools and went to the bar.
She was pleased to see Laurel’s cousin was working tonight. He always gave good measures. “Hi, Shane. Two glasses of house white please.”
“Coming up, Alex. You meeting our Laurel tonight?”
“Hopefully. She was due about ten minutes ago.”
Shane pushed the glasses toward her. “She’ll be here. That’ll be nine pounds fifty.”
She took the glasses back to the table and took a sip from one. She looked at her watch then she heard a text come through. Sorry. Running late. Mother-in-law got a strop on. No worries, at least she hadn’t cancelled.
Fifteen minutes later, she’d finished her glass and was a third of the way down Laurel’s. She nearly leaned back but remembered just in time that there was no back to the stool. She grabbed hold of the table to stop herself falling. She giggled and looked around to see if anyone was watching. They weren’t.
She grinned. Life was good. She couldn’t imagine her old self doing this. No wine bars, no rewarding work, no connections that kept her going. Melancholy flooded her. What she’d done was wicked. She should have had the guts to divorce Reece and struggle on her own. Instead, she’d stolen Alex’s life, one that had been really great and one she’d worked hard for. But if she could go back and make amends, would she? The answer was a definite no.
If only she knew Alex was okay. She wished she could say, Dear wizened old lady, or witch, or fairy godmother. Can you make the other woman happy? It was too late. She’d never know. She’d have to live with that guilt for the rest of her life, but maybe it was a small price to pay for all she’d got in return.
With all her deep dark thoughts, she hadn’t noticed that Laurel was standing in front of her clutching two more glasses of wine.
“Sorry I’m so late, Alex.” She peered across at Gemma. “What the hell’s the matter? I’m the one with the mother-in-law.”
Gemma sniffed and finished the last of the second glass of wine. “I’ve done something terrible.” She didn’t know why, but she blurted the whole story out to Laurel, who had now managed to catch her up on the drinking.
Laurel held her stomach and laughed loudly. “That’d make a bloody fantastic book. Maybe you should swap occupations.”
Gemma was suddenly relieved that Laurel had taken it as a joke. “Yeah. Actually, it was a dream. Maybe I should make notes and write it up.”
“Don’t bother. It sounds more like a nightmare; imagine doing that to someone?” She leaned in closer. “Talking of nightmares, I hope I’m not speaking out of turn, but I’ve heard rumours.”
What now? Was something else going to hit her like a ton of bricks? “Break it to me gently.”
Laurel looked around and leaned in. “You know the big house, the one you rent out to the nursery school? Well, I’ve heard they won’t be renewing their lease. Apparently, their funds have been withdrawn.”
She knew nothing about a big house or nursery school. She hoped she’d remember this conversation tomorrow so she could look up the appropriate documents on it. “Thanks, Laurel. I appreciate the heads up. I’ll look into it.” She wasn’t sure whether it was going to pose a problem, but she’d definitely find out.
She couldn’t remember much else about the evening. She remembered their trip home in the taxi. She recalled trying to fit the backdoor key into the front lock. And when she stumbled into the kitchen, the dog had given her a filthy look. She was going to let him out, but then she saw the note on the table from her mum that she’d already done it. Good old Mum. Then she’d staggered up the stairs and stubbed her toe. She’d giggled and made it into her bedroom. She’d stripped off and fallen into bed. She recollected thinking, never again.
Memories disturbed her sleep as images of Reece’s smile turned into Reece crying, into someone else locked in a sterile-looking room, also crying. She wanted to reach out, to run, to scream that it wasn’t her fault, but there was nothing she could do. When she woke, her head was throbbing and the dreams left her uneasy. Where were the paracetamol? She opened her eyes but could hardly see because everything was blurred. She tried to sit up and groaned.
“I hope it was a good night.”
Gemma held the side of her head. “What’s happened?”
“Nothing, I hope. I brought you a cup of tea.”
She shifted up the bed. “Tea. Nectar.” She reached out for the mug, held the handle firmly so her shaking hands didn’t slosh it over the side, and brought the mug to her lips. “Can you get me a couple of painkillers, Mum?”
Her mum rummaged through her bedside cabinet and produced two tablets.
“Thanks.” She swallowed them with her hot tea and hardly noticed the burning sensation in her throat and stomach. “What time is it?”
“Ten past eleven.”
“Thank God it’s Saturday.”
“It’s wonderful to see you having a good time. That hasn’t happened in so long.”
“It was a little too good, I think.” Luckily, she had remember
ed the two important conversations. Hopefully, Laurel wouldn’t.
Her mum manoeuvred her chair around. “I’ll leave you to come around. See you later, love.”
“Thanks, Mum,” she shouted after her.
It took her a while, but eventually she pulled herself together enough to take a long, hot shower. When she got downstairs, she resisted coffee even though she craved it. She knew it wouldn’t quench her thirst. Instead she drank several glasses of water and then searched in the cupboard for honey. She pulled the jar off the shelf and dug in with a teaspoon. She slipped the honey filled spoon into her mouth and swallowed, then took another two heaped teaspoons full. Then she poached an egg and put it on a slice of toast. Gemma was experienced in these matters. She’d had many a hangover in her life. She shook her head. There was a time many moons ago, when she actually enjoyed some of the effects of a hangover. Her head would be almost bursting from the millions of demons chiselling their way in, and yet she’d felt so horny. Reece had told her that it was to do with tactile perception. She hadn’t cared what it was, but sex at that time had been particularly awesome. She tried to put it to the back of her mind, as it brought up the murky dreams.
She began to feel a bit better. Despite her condition, it had been a great night. Next time she’d take it easier on the wine. Perhaps in the meantime, Shane would get the sack for depleting the wine stock, and then they’d get back to a normal sized glass.
As she was putting the dirty pots in the dishwasher, she spied Jasper out the corner of her eye. He was watching her again. “Do you want to go for a walk on the beach?” He didn’t reply. If he could shrug, she was sure he would have. “C’mon boy. Give me a break. I’m really trying.” Jasper got up and followed her to the door. She put her jacket on and then put his lead on. When she got outside, the sunlight blinded her, and she covered her eyes with her hand. She fished in her pocket and found her sunglasses. On their walk down to the beach, a major breakthrough occurred. Jasper actually walked by her side, and she was sure he nudged her hand with his snout. She’d never have thought that it would matter, but it did.
